


free

by magictodestroy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Children, Depressing, Kurapika has children, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Other, Post-Dark Continent Arc, Spoilers, Tragedy, Trans Kurapika, Trans Male Character, major dark continent arc spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magictodestroy/pseuds/magictodestroy
Summary: Kurapika spreads the bread with minced garlic. He wraps it in tinfoil. He says, ‘Seriously, Hisoka, what the fuck do you want?’Hisoka turns, and his smile hurts his face. ‘I miss you.’‘You miss a stupid, self destructive boy,’ Kurapika says. ‘I’m not him any more.’Hisoka drums his fingers along the counter. He wants to hit Kurapika. He wants to see him flash and bristle again.He says, ‘Do your babies have your eyes?’Kurapika stiffens. ‘Get the hell out of my house.’Hisoka laughs. This is the kind of reaction he wants.





	free

The house is too ordinary: cement walls painted light orange, silver tin roof, blossoming fruit trees, a garden and a pool in the backyard. The trash bins are down on the curb, empty and un-retrieved after a pickup. There’s a black car parked in the driveway. Under the car port stand a black bicycle, a green kids’ bicycle, and a little red tricycle all in a row.

Hisoka double checks the address even though he knows it’s right. It’s just too normal, and he wasn’t expecting children. He cuts through the backyard and comes around to the patio door. It’s open, and there’s a baby gate blocking it. Hisoka steps over the baby gate into a clean living room. The walls are white, and the wooden floors are dark. There’s a grey sectional sofa and two grey chairs. A couple paintings on the wall look like an afterthought.

‘I know you’re there, Hisoka.’

Hisoka turns, and he’s face to face with Kurapika for the first time in seven years.

‘Well, well,’ Hisoka says softly.

Kurapika’s dressed in white shorts and a grey shirt. His hair is longer, and he has it back in a bun. He holds a knife in one hand – the blade is covered with lemon juice and bits of the fruit cling to it.

‘Long time no see,’ Hisoka purrs.

Kurapika stares at him solemnly. He isn’t wearing contacts. Hisoka had forgotten that his eyes weren’t black. They’re a muted grey brown right now. They look so ordinary.

‘What do you want?’ Kurapika asks.

‘When life gives you lemons...’ Hisoka says.

Kurapika looks down at his knife. ‘I’m making dinner. Salmon.’

‘I see.’

Kurapika waves the knife, and Hisoka follows him into the kitchen. It’s tidy. There are baby food jars in the drain. There’s a high chair.

‘You have children?’ Hisoka says.

‘Two.’

‘How nice.’

Kurapika shrugs. He slices lemons. He says, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Would you believe I missed you?’

‘I’m busy, Hisoka.’

‘I killed Phinks. And that’s the last of them.’

‘I don’t care,’ Kurapika says. He arranges lemon slices over salmon.

‘You still don’t care?’

‘I gave that up.’

Hisoka sits down on a stool at the counter. He eats a lemon slice – seeds and peel. Kurapika stares at him.

‘It’s over now,’ Hisoka says. ‘You can rest easy.’

Kurapika grinds pepper over the fish. ‘I told you. I gave that up years ago.’

‘I guess you meant it?’

‘Yes.’

Hisoka picks up a bib and stares at the dried green spots on it.

‘Green beans?’ he asks.

‘Peas.’

‘Does the baby like peas?’

Kurapika puts the fish in the oven.

Hisoka drops the bib. He rubs his hands together.

‘You can go now,’ Kurapika says. ‘If that’s all you had to tell me.’

Hisoka laughs. ‘Where’s the Kurapika I knew?’

‘He died,’ Kurapika says. ‘A long time ago. And I buried him.’

‘And now you’re married with two kids?’

‘I’m not married.’

‘A single dad… Are the kids Gon’s?’

‘You should go.’

Hisoka shrugs. ‘But I came all this way?’

Kurapika pushes the lemon ends into the compost bucket and sets the cutting board and knife in the sink. He runs water over them and washes his hands. He dries them on a kitchen towel hanging from a hook near the window.

Hisoka watches him. There are things here like kitchen towels, like a half loaded dishwasher, like cutting boards and a knife block. There’s art on the fridge. A child’s art is hanging on the fridge by assorted magnets. There are alphabet magnets. Some of them spell out words. Some of the pictures have glitter glue. There are family photos over the dining room table.

Hisoka gets up and stares at the photos. Kurapika and his two children. Some pictures of Gon, Killua, Alluka, Leorio. One picture of the Zodiac with Kurapika standing straight in the midst, holding his child. He looks younger there. Hisoka guesses the kid in the picture is the older one. Kurapika left the Zodiac four years ago.

‘I didn’t know you could cook,’ Hisoka says, back to Kurapika. He doesn’t know how to read him now. He’d expected a bigger reaction from the announcement of Phink’s death.

‘I do now,’ Kurapika says. He cuts bread and brushes it with butter.

‘Isn’t that just perfect?’

Kurapika spreads the bread with minced garlic. He wraps it in tinfoil. He says, ‘Seriously, Hisoka, what the fuck do you want?’

Hisoka turns, and his smile hurts his face. ‘I miss you.’

‘You miss a stupid, self destructive boy,’ Kurapika says. ‘I’m not him any more.’

Hisoka drums his fingers along the counter. He wants to hit Kurapika. He wants to see him flash and bristle again.

He says, ‘Do your babies have your eyes?’

Kurapika stiffens. ‘Get the hell out of my house.’

Hisoka laughs. This is the kind of reaction he wants.

‘Yes, then?’ he says. ‘Aren’t you worried about a second slaughter?’

Kurapika yanks open the refrigerator and grabs a bag of lettuce. He rips it open and dumps the lettuce in a colander. He shoves it under the sink and runs it over with cold water.

‘Did you ever find all the eyes?’ Hisoka leans against the counter closer to Kurapika, but not too close. Kurapika seems domesticated, but he’s still a wild card.

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘So that’s a no. How do you sleep at night?’

‘I have an infant. I don’t.’

Hisoka laughs. ‘Oh, very good.’

‘Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone.’ Kurapika tears the lettuce.

‘Maybe I’m too bored.’

‘Maybe I’m too busy for your nonsense. Why don’t you grow up? Everyone else did.’

Kurapika dumps the lettuce into a delicately cut glass bowl. It’s expensive looking and elegant like the rest of the dishes, like the furniture, like Kurapika himself.

Hisoka smiles softly. ‘You’re the last person I expected to become boring.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You had so much potential.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Now you’re wasting your life making dinner and changing diapers?’

‘I don’t care what you think, Hisoka.’

‘Fine. But I killed Phinks. They’re all dead.’

‘So you mentioned.’ Kurapika fetches a bag of grapes.

‘How does it make you feel?’ Hisoka leans in on him.

Kurapika slices grapes in two and adds them to the salad bowl. ‘I’m fine,’ he says.

‘Like you’re always fine? Are you lying to yourself, Kurapika?’

Kurapika shakes his head. ‘You’re the worst person to try to be a therapist, Hisoka.’

‘I’m not trying. I just want to know.’

‘I’m fine.’ Kurapika adds cherry tomatoes to the salad. ‘I’m happy now.’

‘You don’t look happy.’

‘Looks can be deceiving.’

‘Fine, fine. You’re a happy single father of two wonderful kids. Time to wave at the camera. Give a shout out to your friends. Hi Gon! Hi Killua!’ Hisoka waves exaggeratedly.

Kurapika stares at him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m you. On a game show.’

‘That’s ridiculous. I’d never go on a game show.’

‘Of course not. You’ll just stay home teaching your kids how to pee in the potty and ride without training wheels.’

Kurapika washes his hands again and finally turns to Hisoka.

‘It’s over,’ he says calmly. ‘That’s what you came to tell me. What am I supposed to do? What did you expect? They’re dead. And the eyes are buried at the bottom of the sea. I couldn’t have asked for a better funeral. It’s over, Hisoka. It’s over. I accepted that. You should too. We have nothing more to do with each other. I have nothing more… to do with it.’

‘So that’s that then?’

‘So that’s that.’

Hisoka touches Kurapika’s hair. Kurapika lets him. He stares up at him solemnly, and he looks so completely different than Hisoka remembered him. His bangs are longer and frame his face, and his skin is paler – more translucent. He has lines around his eyes that weren’t there before. And his eyes themselves look much older than the eyes of a twenty-eight year old.

‘I just want to spend time with my children,’ Kurapika says.

‘You’re dying.’ Hisoka’s hand drops.

Kurapika looks away.

‘How long do you have?’

‘Maybe three years. Maybe five. Maybe two.’

‘My god, Kurapika.’

‘There’s nothing to be done now.’ Kurapika sets the salad on the table. Upstairs, a baby starts to wail. Kurapika looks back at Hisoka. ‘You should go.’

‘Is there really nothing to be done?’

‘There’s nothing. It’s my fault. It was a choice I made before I realised what I was giving up. But I made it. And it’s done now. And I can’t change it.’

Kurapika’s eyes are turning. The brown gives way to spots of red. His voice is strangled.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Hisoka says, and he means it.

‘You should go,’ Kurapika says again. ‘I need to get the baby, and her sister is coming home from the library soon.’

‘I guess this means you won’t fight me?’

‘I guess not.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Yes. A perfect shame.’

Hisoka nods and leaves out the front door. He walks past the carefully tended flower garden in the front of the house and stops by the mailbox. He can see Kurapika in an upstairs room lifting a toddler from a crib. He holds the toddler against his chest, bouncing it. Even from this distance, Hisoka can see its glowing red eyes. Kurapika looks out the window, and Hisoka raises his hand in a salute.

Kurapika closes the blinds.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from ObjectionXObjection
> 
> was not expecting this to turn out like this. hope you like it though!


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